Image Magic
by JuicyJuice
Summary: In 6th Year, Harry falls incurably ill. Voldemort is blamed until Malfoy confesses to cursing him and is expelled, but what use is this when Harry lies cold and unmoving? Soon Hogwarts is under attack. Ron Hermione end up in an unexpected place. RR!
1. Prologue

A pale, spidery hand turned the dusty, stained pages of an old and decrepit volume. Stopping at page 1289, cold, blood red eyes passed over a title in bold lettering:  
  
The Art Of Image Magic  
  
A cruel smile appeared on the thin lips of the creature as a pale finger glided quickly under the faded text beneath.  
'Easy,' he thought, 'Too easy.' 


	2. Chapter 1: Falling Down

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Hogwarts and everything in it. I own the plot...and the Malfoy Manor (which wont make its appearance for a while). A/N: This chapter turned out all funky so I'm re-posting it. I'm really sorry if the beginning is all clumped together. It's not like that in Microsoft Word...  
  
Review please!!!!!!!!!  
  
Much love, peace, and Juicy Juice,  
  
JuicyJuice  
  
"Harry?" Alicia called from the air, "Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine," replied a somewhat embarrassed Harry, "It wasn't a bad fall, you know."  
  
"Oh sure, I know, but that's the third time you've fallen off your broom today! You never fall off. Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey—"she said as she landed.  
  
"I'm fine, Alicia. A little tired, maybe, but fine. If I go to the Hospital Wing I'll be there for weeks. You know how Madam Pomfrey is—"  
  
"I insist—as a concerned friend and as Quidditch Captain. We can't risk anything happening to our Seeker!" she said. The other players had now landed to see what was going on and whether he was all right. Harry already felt stupid for falling so many times, he had just lost control for a few seconds, and he didn't need more shame. He wished they would just leave him alone.  
  
Alicia finally bullied him into visiting the Hospital Wing, with help from the other players. If he really thought about it, he didn't feel as fine as he had claimed. He was slightly dizzy and could use a rest.  
  
As he began the trek up a particularly long staircase his feet felt heavier and heavier and his head began to throb. He climbed slower, pausing to rest more and more often. And then finally, near the top, he couldn't handle it anymore. He fell asleep, standing straight up, and toppled the whole 30 feet down the stairs.  
  
The only person to witness this painful occurrence was none other than Draco Malfoy. He hurried over to Harry with all the speed that a concerned friend might have had in the same situation, but after that his reaction was not that of a friend, but one of the spiteful enemy that he was. He kicked the limp form and when it did not move to get up, or even stir, a horrible laugh echoed from the throat of the pale, blond boy. The laugh was chilling and loud. It echoed off the walls of the wide corridor and reached a farther distance than Malfoy would have liked.  
  
Snape hurried down the hall to reach the noise. The laugh made him nervous—and curious; he did not have a good feeling about it. Snape whipped around the corner. What met his eyes caused him a momentary inner conflict. Interfering would mean taking points from his own house, and reprimanding Malfoy, a boy who, in Snape's unbiased opinion, did not deserve it. Then a small voice of reason told him that it seemed Malfoy had seriously harmed Potter and, much as he hated Harry, that could be very bad. The savage kick from Malfoy to the pathetic heap on the floor determined Snape's choice.  
  
"MALFOY!" he barked, spit flying from his mouth in fury, "What are you doing?" He swept forward furiously. Malfoy reddened and began to mutter what seemed to be random words, "What happened?" said Snape fiercely, glaring down at Malfoy and speaking through gritted teeth.  
  
"Professor, er, well..." was all he could come up with. He wasn't used to the way Snape was acting toward him.  
  
"Detention!" Snape bellowed, "Fifty points will be taken from Slytherin! That is how disgusted I am, Malfoy, and I'm sure the Headmaster would be fascinated to know about this. Now go! Just—go!" Malfoy left in a huff, muttering angrily about what his father would do when he found out about this, but the words were half-formed, because even the speaker knew they were useless. Had either of them been less furious, they might have noticed a concerned, bushy-haired someone peeking over the railing above.  
  
"Moblicorpus!" Snape murmured with his wand pointed at Harry. Harry rose up, still unconscious, and floated a few feet above the ground. Snape walked him to the Hospital Wing, glaring at him the entire way and wondering why he had just saved James Potter's son. He quickly explained what had happened to Madam Pomfrey and swept off to his office to think of the nastiest detention he had ever given for Malfoy.  
  
Hermione rushed to the Hospital Wing as fast as she could, arriving just after Snape left. She knew that Malfoy was awful and she was hardly surprised that he would curse Harry. It was Snape's behavior that surprised her. He had stopped Malfoy, saved Harry, and taken points from his own house. Maybe Snape wasn't that bad, grumpy old bat that he was.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I hate to admit it, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said with a sigh and a hint of worry, "But I do not know. That Malfoy boy cursed him, according to Professor Snape, though he didn't witness the actual attack so he did not hear the curse. It's something rare; I can't identify it. I'll have to call on the Headmaster." She bustled off into her office for a moment. She returned quickly.  
  
Madam Pomfrey seemed to think that, if she couldn't cure him, she should use all her energy making sure he was comfortable. Until Dumbledore arrived, she was continually and nervously plumping his pillow and wiping his forehead with a wet cloth.  
  
'If Madam Pomfrey can't cure it, not to mention recognize it, who can?' thought Hermione anxiously, 'What if he can't be helped?'  
  
Dumbledore showed up a few moments later. The way he was examining Harry reminded Hermione of the he examined the Petrified Mrs. Norris. He went about it in the same way, poking and prodding Harry all over with his wand. Hermione only wished that he would finish quickly to tell her what's wrong.  
  
At long last, he stopped, looking much graver than either Madam Pomfrey or Hermione had hoped.  
  
"It is not clear," Dumbledore said, "And nothing is certain, but I have an idea of what it might—what it probably is."  
  
"What is that, Professor?" Hermione asked, noticing Madam Pomfrey paling dramatically and putting a hand over her mouth, but Dumbledore either did not hear her or did not want to explain, for he turned to the nurse.  
  
"You said Malfoy did it?"  
  
"According to Professor Snape he was the one. Severus found him kicking Potter, who was in a heap on the ground, and laughing like a madman," said Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"I saw him, Professor, "Hermione piped in, "Well, actually I didn't see him hurt Harry; I just came over because I heard Sna—Professor Snape yelling."  
  
"I believe the two of you, don't get me wrong," said Dumbledore, "But I just don't understand how he could have done it. For one, it is advanced magic that a Sixth Year almost certainly could not pull off. Secondly, Image Magic was banned so long ago that all—or nearly all—the books on it have been burned...Although, knowing the Malfoy family...No. Draco could not have done it, not if it was Image Magic."  
  
"Then who do you think it was?" Hermione asked, knowing and dreading the answer.  
  
"Voldemort." 


	3. Chapter 2: Voodoo and Image Magic

Disclaimer: I own nothing of this...blah blah blah. You know the drill.  
  
Author's Note: This chapter is uneventful. I apologize. You see, I altered this part a lot. Ron and Hermione were going to do some detective work in the original to see who had checked out an Image Magic book in the Restricted section, (the one in my handy-dandy notebook) but I decided that that was extremely dumb and tedious. It gets better, I promise. Because I had to change a lot, there may be loopholes or problems. Please tell me about them, if you would. And, REVIEW! I might not write more if you don't. Flames are fine, but only if they are helpful.  
  
Thanks to Soupie for reviewing. I need much encouragement.  
  
Hermione quickly left the Hospital Wing to find Ron. She decided to go to the Common Room; Quidditch practice would be ending soon. The moment he stepped through the door she nearly pounced on him.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Oh, hey Hermione," he said. She opened her mouth to tell him about Harry, but he held up a hand and said, "Hold that thought, alright? I need to go upstairs and sleep for about a month. Alicia worked us hard out there. I feel dead." But before he could take another step she near- shouted at him.  
  
"Harry's going to die!"  
  
Many people turned and stared for a moment, but then turned away, annoyed. Ron and Hermione spent so much of their time bickering and arguing that most of Gryffindor routinely ignored them.  
  
"What?" he whispered. She explained hastily all that had taken place.  
  
"Image Magic? What's that?" he asked.  
  
"I think I know, maybe—I'm not sure. I need to check the library."  
  
"As always," he muttered, awarding him a glare, "Well, while you do that, I'll go take a nap." He began to walk away, but she grabbed him by the neck of his Quidditch robes and dragged him to the portrait hole.  
  
"You're coming with me," she said.  
  
"So I gathered," he gasped, massaging his neck.  
  
Their walk to the library was a short one. Hermione had, using the Marauders Map, mapped the quickest route to the library, because she used it so often. It involved going through two secret passageways, hidden by tapestries, and giving a password ("Serapis") to the statue of Conrad the Clever.  
  
When they arrived, Hermione, who was best at researching, looked for books, while Ron went to Madam Pomfrey to ask where to find them.  
  
"Image Magic?" she asked sharply, "Why would you need that information? I see no reason why a mediocre Sixth Year student would need a book on that."  
  
"It does matter why I need it!" he said in a voice that was a little louder than what is acceptable in a library; he was angry at being called mediocre. What did she know about his grades, anyhow?"  
  
"Shhh," was her only reply. Without another glance at the exasperated boy before her, she returned to magically fixing the binding on a small leather volume. Apparently, the matter was closed.  
  
Ron sighed angrily and walked away, muttering audibly about "typical, obsessive librarians."  
  
"Hermione," he groaned as he flopped his lanky form into the chair beside her, "Madam Ugly Vulture wont even listen to me. Image Magic must be some freaky stuff; she doesn't seem to think I should be reading it. She just shushed me." He couldn't tell if she was listening; there were too many books surrounding her and blocking her face, but he soon found out she had heard every word.  
  
"Typical," she grumbled, "I send you off with the easy job and you fumble it all up! I suppose I'll go and talk to her, you wouldn't understand how to talk to a librarian." With that she rose out of her chair and stalked off. It was always traumatic for Hermione when her trusty old library let her down.  
  
Ron settled in for what he thought would be endless hours of paging through books, like it had been with Nicholas Flamel. If Hermione couldn't find it in the first five minutes, chances were it couldn't be found. He grabbed a promising-looking book from a nearby shelf labeled "The Dark Forces You Cannot Avoid". He looked in the index and instantly found Image Magic. He allowed himself a moment to smile smugly at finding it before Hermione before flipping to the page. This is what he read:  
  
Image Magic  
  
One of the oldest, darkest, and hard-to–prevent forms of magic, Image  
Magic was banned by the Council of Wizards in 1289 B.C. when it became  
a serious threat. Often called Voodoo, Image Magic involves making an  
effigy, a clay or wax model that represents a person you hate. Then,  
after much chanting and many incantations, you harm the effigy in some  
way, often melting or stabbing. Whatever you do to the effigy will,  
if done correctly, happen to the person. No cure has yet been found  
for this. The last known practitioner of Image Magic was none other  
than the notorious Dark Wizard Grindelwald in the 1940's.  
  
"The guy Dumbledore defeated..." muttered Ron.  
  
"What?" asked Hermione, who had returned with a book in her hand labeled Voodoo in silver letters.  
  
"Nothing," he said, "I found something, though."  
  
"Really?" she looked surprised, "So did I. And it's awful isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah," said Ron, suddenly extremely worried for Harry, "But Dumbledore wasn't sure, was he?"  
  
"No..." she paused, "But you know Dumbledore, he's always right."  
  
"Oh God," Ron put his head in his hands. If there wasn't a cure, and it didn't seem as if there was, then Harry would...die. Ron couldn't even fathom life without Harry, his best friend since the Hogwarts Express back in First Year. In his mind, Ron went over all the times they had shared, good and bad, and he was suddenly resolved. He would not let Harry die. But then, seconds later, he realized how truly dumb that was. There was nothing, nothing at all he could do to save his friend.  
  
"Do you think Malfoy did it, Ron?" Hermione's voice cut through his morbid thoughts.  
  
"Yes," he said immediately, "...no. Dumbledore is always right, like you said. And nobody saw him. Even he, I think, would not go that far...maybe."  
  
"I think he might," said Hermione, "He's never shown any signs of not being exactly like his father."  
  
"He is exactly like his father," said Ron, "But he's never killed anyone. He's all talk. I doubt he even has the guts—"  
  
"Are you defending him?"  
  
"No," he said immediately, repulsed by the very idea, "It's just what I think."  
  
"Oh. Well I think he did it. The way he was laughing—you should have heard it. I could hear it from many halls away; it was terrible, evil. It made me shudder."  
  
"Exactly," Ron said, surprising her further by defending Malfoy again, "Would he have stood over Harry and laughed like a maniac if he had just killed him? That'd be stupid. Malfoy deserves to be called many foul and disgusting words, but dumb is not one of them—"  
  
"You think he's smart?" Hermione would have laughed had the situation not been so grim.  
  
"He's, like, fourth in the class! If he had done it he would have stayed as far away as possible, wouldn't he have?"  
  
"Maybe," she said with a sigh, "We may never know." 


	4. Chapter 3: He Confessed?

Disclaimer: I own the plot. J.K. Rowling the Awesome Author owns Hogwarts and everything in it. . .which is a very sad thing indeed. A/N: This is a nice short chapter. The next one will feature the attack on Hogwarts, so keep reading! And review please!!!!!  
  
For the next several days, classes dragged on. They visited Harry at least twice a day. Often they were not allowed in because Healers from St. Mungo's were examining him. Dumbledore would not let him be taken from the school, probably for his own safety. No one knew what his condition was. Even Dumbledore's Image Magic theory was just that-a theory. Harry just lay there, cold and motionless. No potion or spell would wake him. Rumors began to spread about why The Boy Who Lived was missing. Many people came up to Ron and Hermione to ask what had happened to him. They told most of them that he was very sick in the Hospital Wing, but they gave Lavendar, Parvati, Dean, Neville, and Seamus the whole story. Draco Malfoy was strangely absent of cruel remarks. He had denied all charges of doing anything to Harry and was keeping his head down. Ron and Hermione could barely stand it. They both missed Harry terribly and were so worried for him that it was difficult, even for Hermione, to study. Even Lavendar and Parvati's giggling was reduced to a minimum. "He wont. . .die, will he, 'Mione?" Parvati asked while they were getting ready for bed in their dormitory, "Professor Trelawney told us about that prophecy she made a long time ago, the one about Harry. What if it is You- Know-Who who's done it to him?" Hermione did not answer. "Sorry," Parvati said quickly, "I shouldn't have said that-" "It's okay," said Hermione, "I just don't really want to think about it, that's all." "I don't either," said Lavendar, shuddering. "I wish I could help him, you know?" Hermione continued, "I've always been able to help him through trouble and now there's nothing-not one single thing I can do. I hate that feeling. I feel. . .helpless." Lavendar and Parvati nodded sympathetically.  
  
The following day Dumbledore announced that Malfoy had been expelled. He had confessed the previous evening to using Drow's Curse on Harry. The Sixth Year Gryffindors looked to one another in shock. He had confessed? "I told you so," Hermione whispered into Ron's ear, but she felt no satisfaction in being correct. It didn't help Harry. "What's Drow's Curse?" Dean asked. It seems that many other people in the Great Hall had the same question. "It's a curse that I thought only existed in story books," said Parvati, looking tense, "I didn't think anyone knew how to do it any more. It curses you into sleep until you die." "But that doesn't make sense," said Hermione, "Only Voldemort-" everyone flinched, "-can kill Harry, unless he kills Voldemort, that is." "You don't understand," said Ron, "It makes you sleep until you die, but it doesn't kill you. And there's no way to undo it." "So that means. . ." Hermione began, but she didn't finish the sentence, it was too depressing to voice out loud: Harry would never wake up. 


	5. Chapter 4: The Attack

A/N-Thanks a gazillion for all the reviews, guys. It's definitely encouraging to know that someone is reading my story. I got a complaint that my formatting was too close together. I may have mentioned this before, but I can't help that; in Microsoft Word it's all nicely spaced out. Thanks to my little sisters, Baby 'Nor, who was no help whatsoever and who I love, and Jack O' Fred who was tons of help and who I love.  
  
The next month was grim yet uneventful. Voldemort's threat was beginning to be realized, though he had not done anything yet. This just made people more worried that he was planning something huge-something horrible. A gloomy atmosphere muffled the entire school, but no place was more dismal than the Gryffindor Common Room. Everyone there had liked Harry well enough and his absence was felt. Nasty remarks could be heard about Malfoy almost constantly.  
More days slipped by and the useless feeling that had haunted Hermione was now felt by Ron as well. Neither of them got much sleep, but when they did all they could dream of was Harry, which was worse than being sleepless.  
Everyone seemed to be waiting for something to happen, but nothing did, and for a whole month Harry lay still, just like the castle seemed to be doing.  
  
It was a dreary day outside. The sky was so dark with clouds it could have been night and it drizzled continually. At lunch the noise level was a dull murmur. Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindors were practically silent. It was then that pandemonium commenced. It started slowly at first; a white fog gradually creeping over the Great Hall until no one could see except for the blurry, dark shapes of their classmates. There were screams and nervous whispering. What was happening? Then someone burst through the doors with a loud bang, making everyone jump as one. They heard the voice of Professor Vector, "Headmaster! It's-it's You-Know-Who!" Everyone stood up, panicked. Most people were rushing to the doors, hoping to run and hide. Only Hermione knew where to go. "Follow me!" she whispered loudly to Ron. Parvati, Lavendar, and Neville heard also and they all went after her. Instead of panicking and screaming, as most of her classmates had done, she had kept calm and, squinting through the fog, had noticed a few of the Slytherins disappear into a corner. The five struggled with difficulty through the sea of people who were fighting to squeeze through the main doors. Visibility was practically non- existent; Ron crashed into two tables and tripped over seven people. When they eventually reached the corner, sure enough, there was a trap door. Not caring what they might find at the bottom, they jumped down, except for Neville, who tripped and fell in headfirst. When they landed, they were in a circular room, but before they had enough time to look around, a Seventh Year Slytherin who was taller, even, than Ron, loomed over them. "I suppose you are all heading for the Malfoy Manor?" he said, "It is the only one left." No one answered for a moment, but then a resounding boom was heard from above. "Yes, all of us," Hermione said quickly. "Alright then," he handed her a large, dull gray stone that had "Malfoy Manor" carved into it in fancy script, "Each of you need to put a finger on this stone. You will be transported to your house in--," he checked his watch, "Five seconds." They all did as they were told as loud and piercing screams were heard from the Great Hall above. "Five.four.three.two.hey, aren't you a Gryffindor?" his realization and fury was seen for a half a moment. But he had realized it too late and they were transported away. There was a blur of color surrounding them and they landed on a cold, stone floor. Neville lost his balance and toppled over, causing a sort of Domino effect, at the end of which they were all on the floor with several people on top of them. "Graceful," a drawling voice came from above. They all looked up. Draco Malfoy was at the top of a wide, marble staircase. 


	6. Chapter 5: Malfoy Manor

"May I ask what you are doing here?" Malfoy asked, "You're supposed to be dead by now."  
"Funny, Malfoy!" Parvati near-screeched, "I can't believe you'd let your parents do-do that. And then you laugh! And you cursed Harry- permanently! How can you live with yourself? Do you have no guilt, no shame? How do you sleep--?" Malfoy interrupted her. His face had his usual sneer, but there was something else there too, something in his eyes, something like hurt.  
"You haven't figured it out yet, have you? You still believe I cursed Harry?" he snorted, "It was to put old Dumbledore off the Dark Lord's trail. And as for my parents-as for them, it's not my fault what they do. I don't let them do anything; they do it all by themselves," he surveyed them, "I bet you thought you were so smart, escaping with the Slytherins like that."  
"It was smart," Hermione said heatedly, but then her tone softened noticeably, "I'm sorry you got expelled, Malfoy."  
The four other Gryffindors stared at her, gaping, but Malfoy did not seem phased by her sudden words of kindness.  
"Yeah, you should be," a strange look came into his eyes and he looked past them, "Father said it was better for me to be blamed. . .but I think. . .his own son." He seemed to be talking to himself more than anyone else.  
"We're sorry," said Lavendar, after a moment of awkward silence. Everyone except Ron nodded (some more reluctantly than others).  
"Thanks," Malfoy said, but then, realizing who exactly he was talking to, he began to walk away. He was almost out of sight when Hermione spoke up.  
"Wait!" she called, "What are we going to do?"  
Malfoy shrugged, "Not my problem." With that he disappeared around a corner.  
The five Gryffindors were silent for a moment.  
"Poor guy," said Parvati.  
"He seemed different," said Neville quietly.  
"Yeah, yeah," said Ron, "Let's save the sob-stories for later. I'm hungry. Are there any House Elves in this place?" Hermione gave him a look so severe that he took a step back.  
"You can go ahead and look, Ron," said Parvati, "But Lavendar and I are going to look around. See if we can't find some guest rooms." "I'm coming too!" Neville piped in. And the three went up the stairs, leaving Ron and Hermione to search for a kitchen. After several minutes of poking their heads into vast and grand rooms that were about the size of the entire Borrow and looked like they had no purpose at all, they found a dining room. At the far end of it was a swinging door. The door was very short and clearly made for House Elves. Hermione had to duck through it and Ron, being to tall, had to get on his hands and knees and crawl through. At there arrival, two House Elves careened towards them. "How cans we help sir and miss?" they asked in unison. "We are guests," said Hermione, clearly disapproving of how eager they were to serve, "And we would like some food." "Shepard's Pie, if you have it," Ron added helpfully, "And , maybe, some éclairs. . ." Hermione glared at him, he ignored her, "And we'll need some extra for our friends."  
In a matter of seconds several trays of food were being shoved into their hands.  
"Thank you!"  
  
The others were not hard to find. They were on the third floor. The Manor was so huge that the third floor had eight guest rooms-more than enough for them all, so huge that it would be days before they ran into Malfoy again.  
"This is too weird," said Ron as they sat on the floor eating lunch, "being in Malfoy's house and all. It's not right."  
"Well it's certainly better than dead," said Hermione.  
"Yes," said Neville, "But I still don't like it here. It's as big as Hogwarts, but desolate."  
"But we can't leave," said Parvati.  
"No," Hermione agreed, "First off, we have no idea where we are, and second, we're probably in the safest place in the world right now. Death Eaters are back on the attack, but they wouldn't come here. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy aren't home-at least I don't think so and, as we found out, he's upset with his parents for letting him be blamed so he probably wont tell them that we're here."  
"He's upset?" asked Ron, who wasn't as quick as Hermione.  
"Yeah, didn't you see him?"  
"He looked sad," said Lavendar.  
"Really sad," Neville said, "I almost pity him."  
"His parents are really awful!" said Parvati, "They let him get expelled and then leave him all alone."  
"Of course they're awful! They're Death Eater's!" said Hermione.  
"Poor, poor Malfoy," Parvati said.  
Ron stared at them like they were all crazy, "You do remember who we're talking about, right?" he asked, "You're not talking about just anyone. It's Malfoy! Evil, I-hate-Muggle-Borns, cheats-at-Quidditch Malfoy."  
And, suddenly, they all remembered.  
Hermione remembered the multiple times Malfoy called her a Mudblood.  
Neville remembered the time he had to hop all the way to the Common Room with his legs bound.  
Lavendar remembered the time Malfoy laughed when he heard her rabbit Binky died.  
Parvati remembered they way Malfoy always adopted a mockery of an Indian accent when addressing her.  
"Oh," they all said simultaneously. There was silence for a moment as they all chewed their food and then, seemingly out-of-the-blue, Parvati burst into tears and fled from the room.  
"Par? What's--?" Lavendar began, but her best friend had already disappeared down the hall. 


	7. Chapter 6: Ginny

A/N: Thanks again to my beautiful, lovely reviewers. You rock. A lot. Also, this next bit takes place in Hogwarts, if you are too dim to figure that out. It begins right before the attack on Hogwarts. Disclaimer: I'm not stealing Harry + co.-just-um-borrowing them! They all belong to the talented J.K. Rowling! *Cowers in the corner*  
  
Ginny stared at the motionless form in the Hospital Wing bed before her. She had chosen lunchtime to come visit him because she didn't want the old rumors to start up again about her being in love with him. Those were nothing but annoying (and slightly embarrassing) and she was so miserable at the now-gloomy Hogwarts that she didn't need anything to worsen her foul mood.  
'We need Fred and George back in this place,' she thought, 'Comic relief, that's the answer.' But she felt instinctively that things could only get worse. The anticipation of Voldemort would soon no longer be anticipation; it would be harsh reality. At this, Ginny thought of her family. How many of them would survive it?  
Needing to rid herself of this morbid thought, she focused back on Harry.  
"Harry," she whispered, "Please come back."  
BOOM!  
She jumped. She could hear shrill screams and several faint yells of, "Attack!" Ginny stared around the Hospital Wing in near panic. It was only her and Harry; even Madam Pomfrey had gone to lunch. She looked for a place to hide, but she could not see one suitable spot. If she stayed in the Hospital Wing, the Death Eaters, if, indeed, it was the Death Eaters who were causing the disturbance, would find her; they were likely to search the whole school. She ran to the door of Madam Pomfrey's office, but it was locked. Even Alohamora would not open it.  
'I have to get out of here,' she thought. Then, in a rather wild move, she grabbed Harry under the arms and dragged him with tremendous effort through the door and into the corridor. Sheer fear gave her the strength to get him all the way down two long halls. She had an idea of where she might hide, but she needed to do it quickly or she would get discovered. In front of a statue of an old, one-eyed witch, she gently set Harry on the ground.  
"Dissendium!" she whispered, with her hand on the witch's hump, praying that she didn't need a wand. She held her breath and, slowly, it opened. George had told her the truth.  
'Thank you, George,' she thought as she lifted Harry, using the last of her strength, and unceremoniously shoved him through the hump. She too went in headfirst, and just as she heard footsteps coming around the corner, the statue sealed itself.  
Ginny allowed herself to slide down the earthy slope, dirtying her robes. Harry had already rolled down and was in a heap at the bottom. She panted heavily as she bent over to pick up Harry. If she could make it all the way to Hogsmeade they might be safe, but she had no idea how far it would be. After a few steps with Harry in her arms, however, she sank to the ground. She could not do it. If only she hadn't left her wand on her bed. . .  
She felt helpless, sitting there with her back against the wall and Harry's head on her lap. The tears began to fall.  
"Harry," she whispered and then she said with a sob, "Please, please wake up."  
But he would not wake. According to the books, he would never wake. Not until he died.  
"Ginny?" she heard after what seemed to be a long time. She felt Harry's head stir on her lap. She nearly got whiplash, she looked down on him so fast.  
"Harry?"  
His eyes were slightly open, though it was hard to see in the dark passageway, "Ginny? Where are we? I was-it wasn't me. I-I didn't make those orange clouds. And the birds! I couldn't have! And the, and the. . .Ginny?"  
"Shh, Harry," she said, "It's going to be okay." She had no idea what he was babbling about, but it was not a good sign.  
'At least he's up again,' she thought as she felt his forehead. He had a definite fever.  
"Harry, you'll be fine," she said in the voice that her Mum always used when she, Ginny, was sick, warm and comforting, "You were just dreaming. Go back to sleep now." But he already had.  
Ginny stared into the almost complete darkness and felt very, very alone. 


	8. Chapter 7:Many Tears and Malfoy

"Parvati?" Lavendar called. Parvati groaned inwardly, taking a break from her sadness to be annoyed at her best friend. She now wished that she had waited until after leaving the room to start crying, but she couldn't help herself. Padma could be dead already and here she was, still alive.  
Parvati loved her sister more than anything in the world and, though they had been sorted into different houses, they had lots in common. They got along well enough. Once they had even done the typical twin thing and switched for a day and had told no one, not even their friends, about it.  
She couldn't stand and nor could she fathom the though of Padma dead, especially when she, Parvati, was still alive. In her despair, she did not even want Lavendar around.  
Parvati continued running down halls in the opposite direction of her friends, sobbing quietly. Lavendar, however, was quick and had managed to follow her closely.  
"Par, come back!" she said, "What's wrong?"  
"Go away!" But Lavendar did not intend to do so. They continued this chase for a minute or so before Parvati, out of breath, decided to hide. She opened the nearest door and entered without hesitation. She leaned against the door, with eyes closed and her forehead against its cool stone surface until she heard Lavendar pass, still calling her name. Then her sobs began again. She slowly slid down to the ground. And there she stayed, in a heap on the floor for several minutes, completely unaware of her surroundings.  
She still had some hope that Padma could still be alive. It was true; she had no idea what had actually happened at Hogwarts after they had departed. This hope, however, almost made it worse because now she was anxious as well as sad. Also, it would be harder to take if the news of Padma's death did come than if she already knew.  
When her weeping had subsided, she whispered almost inaudibly, "I wish I was dead too."  
She took a deep breath, knowing she should go back to the others. They would be worried about her. But she did not want to go back. She didn't want them to feel sorry for her or to act all understanding. She just wanted to be alone for a while, to be upset on her own.  
'You'll never see Padma again,' she thought, and the second she did, the tears returned.  
"Parvati?" a voice came from behind her and it was not Lavender. It was not even Ron, Hermione, or Neville. It was Malfoy. He had been in the room the entire time.  
"Go away," she moaned, not turning. She hated having people see her crying.  
"You can't send me away in my own house. And I was in this room first. Maybe you've got other guys wrapped around your finger, but I'm not about to obey you, you stinking Half-breed-"  
She whirled around angrily. Couldn't he tell this was not the time for it? She could not help but scream at him. She had so much emotion in her that she needed to let some out, "I SAID GO AWAY! DON'T YOU HAVE ANY EMPATHY? LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR WHINING! GO CRY TO YOUR DADDY, MALFOY, BECAUSE I DON'T CARE. I'LL SAY WHAT I WANT TO NO MATTER WHAT KIND OF BLOOD I'VE GOT!"  
"I'm not the one crying," he said nastily. Parvati gave him a glare so severe that he was almost unnerved. She swore several times at him and then, without warning or ceremony, strode over to him and hit him on the face-hard.  
"I've been wanting to do that since I saw you, Malfoy." He did not clutch the side of his face and nor did he act as if it hurt him, but she could see the tears at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill unbidden.  
They stood there for a short while, in what seemed to be a glaring contest.  
"Why are you crying, anyway?" asked Malfoy, though it didn't really seem as if he cared, "You're alive, aren't you?"  
"No thanks to your parents," she said, knowing that would touch a nerve, "And I'm crying because . . .my sister, she's still at the school and-and she's probably-probably . . ." She could not bring herself to say the last word. She knew she would break down again if she did, and that was the last thing she wanted to do in front of Malfoy.  
"Probably dead," he finished for her and then he added, in an uncharacteristically sincere voice, "I am sorry."  
She looked him in the eye for a moment, but then spun around, knowing the sobs would soon begin, "How can you be sorry?" she asked, with her hand over her face, "You've never loved anybody. Not to mention lost them. All your friends are idiots and your parents deserve to be dead. You wouldn't- wouldn't miss any of them if they were murdered. You can't understand."  
"Do I have to understand to be sorry?" he asked. This would have angered her again had it not been said in an honest tone that she had never thought Malfoy could've achieved.  
Before she had even decided to do it, she whirled around and threw herself into his arms, sobbing openly now. He was taken aback and stumbled backwards a few steps before catching himself, but soon he had relaxed.  
They stood there together, in each other's arms until they had both lost track of time, with her crying and him patiently letting her, sometimes stroking her hair.  
Parvati had been so deep in her misery that she had not been thinking quite straight, but ,the moment she felt that she had cried long enough, she realized exactly whose shoulder it was that was now completely drenched and leapt back wildly.  
"I'm-I'm sorry," she said, her tan skin reddening, avoiding his icy gray eyes, "I was-I didn't mean to--."  
"It's okay," he said. She finally got up the courage to look up into his eyes and found that he meant it.  
"Thanks," she said, blushing even deeper, "I guess-I'll just, er, go now."  
She turned to leave, but he caught her wrist, "You-you don't have to."  
"Yes, yes I do," she said nervously, "The others will be wondering where I am. I ran away from them and it's been a while now. I don't want them to worry."  
"Why were you running away?" he asked.  
He was being a bit nosy, in her opinion, but she told him anyway, "I don't like having people see me cry and. . .And I suppose I just didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be alone."  
"Why would you want to be alone?"  
"I just did. I didn't want to explain why I was crying or have people feel sorry for me-"  
"I hate being alone," he interrupted her, "I'm always alone here."  
She looked at him for a moment, he was looking past her, "You don't have to be constantly alone," she said reasonably, wiping the tears from her face, "You could invite friends."  
"You said it before," he sighed, "My friends are idiots."  
"Get new friends," she suggested as if he could just go to the store and buy them, "There have got to be some halfway decent people in Slytherin."  
He rolled his eyes, "Only Blaise Zabini and her friend Aleabeth Lestrange fit that description, and they hate me!"  
"No offense, Malfoy," Parvati said, "But you have gotten yourself a pretty nasty reputation around the decent people, with all your Muggle-born crap and your attitude. Why do you do it, anyway?"  
He shrugged unhappily, "It's easier."  
She snorted, "You're going to be alone forever if you think that way."  
"Am I?" he said. And with that he leant forward and kissed her gently on the lips. This took her by surprise so much that she nearly stepped away, but she stopped herself and, instead, kissed him back.  
  
Author's note: Ah, so sweet. I really like the Draco/Parvati pairing. I don't think I've ever seen it before. Thanks to all the reviewers (especially Cathy W. and d for pointing out my silly mistakes), keep it up please. Without my daily dose of reviews, I become depressed and may stop writing. Constructive flames are always acceptable (though I must admit I don't like them). Thanks to Bill Whelan for composing the music I listened to all through writing this chappie, River Dance: The Show. That is the absolute best music ever.  
The next chapter will come tomorrow if you're lucky. The reason I've been able to get so many chapters up so fast is because I have had an amazingly small amount of things to do over the past weeks, but soon that wont be the case. I'm off to England in four days and when I come back, school starts so I'm not sure when this'll get finished. Peace, Love, And Much Juicy Juice, JuicyJuice 


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